It Was Never the End DreamNotFound

George POV

"I'm going to ask you straight out, George. We came here for you. Will you be coming back with us?" 

George's mouth went dry, and he could feel Dream stiffen beside him. He swallowed nervously, staring into Wilbur's brown eyes. How was he supposed to answer that? He hasn't talked to Dream about the situation yet. 

It wasn't like George hadn't planned to talk to Dream about the topic at hand, but Dream had fallen asleep. 

"I go where Dream goes." George finally said. 

Wilbur frowned. "George, I don't think he will be welcomed in camp. I know you think he's harmless but-" 

"I know everything." George interrupted. 

Wilbur's eyes widened, flicking from George to Dream and back again. "He told you?"

"Yes," George replied firmly. "And I don't care. Dream would never hurt me or anyone I care about." 

Wilbur puffed out a breath, swiping his fluffy brown hair out of his eyes. He was silent for a long moment, and then, "It wouldn't be my decision anyways. But I don't agree." 

"Does that mean you wouldn't come back?" Tommy looked heartbroken. 

"Not unless Dream came with me." 

"And is that what he wants?" Wilbur looked at Dream, who said nothing. 

"I don't even know if going back is what I want," George confessed. "I... I need time to think about it, and talk to Dream. Please, Wilbur."

"We won't leave without the Gogs, right?" Tommy nudged his brother. 

Wilbur's forehead creased. "Three days." 

He glanced at Dream. "Three days, and we leave. With or without you. Both of you." 

George felt the smile break out across his face. He'd rather more time, but at least Wilbur had agreed to Dream coming with. If they decided to tag along, that is. 

Before he could thank Wilbur, however, Dream interrupted in a soft tone. "We need to be quiet now. No more talking." 

George turned to Dream, whose mask looked even more eerie in the dying firelight. He leaned closer, whispering, "Why?"

"The storm has finished. The monsters will hear us now." 

George listened, and sure enough the rain had stopped. The only thing that could be heard was the occasional clicks and howls of unknown creatures. 

Wilbur leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes. Even Tommy kept silent. They had the same rule back in camp. After a storm everyone was to remain quiet while the border patrols kept watch. 

Only half an hour in, Dream and Tommy were already fidgeting. George had been right about Dream's ADHD, and he felt bad for the man as he watched Dream tug his gloves and pick at his boots. 

After a moment, Dream stood and walked to his backpack abandoned in the corner of the room. He carefully lifted the pack and brought it to where he'd been previously sitting. George watched as he removed his stash of knives, laying them out on the ground.

Wilbur opened one eye, looking at the knives and then George. George shook his head, signaling it was fine. As he suspected, Dream took out a bottle of blade polisher and a soft rag. Since they'd discovered extra rags and oils in the workshop, Dream often cleaned his knives when he had nothing else to do.

Tommy edged closer to Dream, studying the knives with keen interest. To George's surprise, Dream pulled a second rag from his backpack and handed Tommy one of the smaller weapons. Tommy's eyes lit up as he eagerly took the knife and rag from Dream, setting to work polishing the blade to a shine.